Stuck
by brahdley jims
Summary: "you're a wizard! do... magic!" - fredII/OC. merry christmas, summer. :3


**an: **for summer, because she loves fred weasley II and louis tomlinson and fred/summer. merry christmas, darling. :3

apologies for the crappiness of it... it was written quite quickly. o.O

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><p>Summer emerged from the front of the car, face slightly blackened from nosing around in the engines.<p>

"No use. It's gone."

Fred glanced up from where he leaned against the red car door, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean, _gone_?"

"I mean the engine's given up. Kaput. Useless."

He stared at her, disbelieving. "But – but that means we're stuck here. Here! In the middle of nowhere!" He threw his arms out to the side, gesturing to the vast, seemingly endless white landscape around them. There was nothing but hills covered in multiple blankets of snow in sight, and the narrow, icy road they'd come down.

"Well done, Sherlock!" Summer applauded, plastering a fake beam on her face, which was soon replaced by a scowl.

"Who's Sherlock?"

"He's – you know what, it doesn't matter."

"Oh. It's a Muggle thing, isn't it? Like this bloody _car_." Fred glared accusingly at the car. "You and your stupid Muggle things, Summer! We couldn't have used Apparition or Floo or even Portkey to get wherever you wanted to go. We had to take this useless thing! And now it's gone and crashed, or something, and we're stuck here! Great idea for a Sunday afternoon out, Summer, well done!"

"It hasn't crashed, _computers _crash," Summer sighed irritably, "and forgive me for wanting to do something different! Wizards have no respect for Muggle inventions, with the few exceptions like your grandpa. I thought it would be fun! It's not my fault the car is too old to… well, it's not on the best terms with extreme weather…"

"You mean you knew it might give up in the snow and the cold?" Summer went red, and Fred gaped at her like a goldfish. "You _knew_?"

"Well – you're a wizard! Do magic!" Summer yelled back lamely.

"You're a wizard, too!"

"The correct term is witch –"

"I can think of a word that sounds a lot like that which describes you much better right now –"

"How _dare _you –"

"Wait, do you hear that?"

"- and that time you called me fat, you were sleeping on the sofa for a week, I'm not afraid to do that to you again – PFHH!"

Fred had lunged forward and slapped a hand over her mouth. "Shut up for one second, Summer! Listen."

Giving him her best glare now she'd been silenced, Summer crossed her arms and made a point of sighing loudly. Fred raised his eyebrows at her, putting a finger to his lips.

"I can't hear –"

"Ssh!"

Sulking, Summer did as she was told.

After a few moments, shivering in the cold and now the silence, the pair heard a low rumble over the hill somewhere. It sounded a lot like –

"A helicopter!" Summer cried, as the massive flying machine emerged from the patchy white sky, blades spinning so fast they were a blur.

"Those are Muggle things too, right? Oh, how _bloody __lucky __we __are, _it'll probably chop us up into slivers instead of rescuing us –"

"Shut up, Fred! Hey! We're down here!" Summer started to jump up and down, waving her arms around manically. "Hey! Where're you – oi! Get back here! Where do you think you're going? We're down here! We need rescuing!" But the helicopter made no sign that it had noticed them and flew straight overhead. Stomping her foot and squealing in protest, she screamed, "YOUR DAUGHTERS ARE TOUCHING LOUIS TOMLINSON'S BULGE! HOW D'YOU FEEL ABOUT THAT?" at the disappearing helicopter. "Bastards," she muttered.

"Louis Tomlinson?" Fred stared blankly at Summer, before he nodded in understanding. "Ah, another one of our Louis' fake aliases. He must have broken the world record for the amount of girls he hasn't called back –"

"Ugh, Fred, just shut up!"

"What did I say?"

Failing to respond, Summer fell back against the rusty old car with its chipping red paint and slid down the side, tucking her knees into her chest as she hit the ground.

"Summer?"

Fred was quick to join her, mirroring her position. He glanced concernedly at her, chewing her lip, until her head fell forward onto her knees.

"It's all my fault," she mumbled into the fabric of her jeans. Fred froze. Oh, Merlin. If she started crying, he didn't know what he'd do. He'd never been able to deal with crying girls.

"What? No, Summer, it's really not –"

"Yes, it is! Everything is! I insisted on this stupid bloody trip, I knew the car might give up halfway through, I'm never tolerant enough of how you really don't understand Muggle things, I smashed the Chudley Cannons ornament on the Christmas tree –"

"That was _you_?"

"I'm never going to make a good impression on all your family, I forget to book reservations at restaurants whenever you ask me too, I still haven't bought your Christmas present –"

"_You __haven__'__t __got __me __a __present __yet?__"_

"- and I've ruined Christmas!"

Fred was relieved when she came to the end of her speech – mostly because Summer hadn't started crying yet. He gently tilted her head towards him. "You are also very. Over. Dramatic," he whispered, kissing her. Pulling back, she bit her lip nervously.

"You mean –"

"It's OK. None of that is anything to worry about. My family love you, Summer, almost as much as I do, and I secretly love it when you get all frustrated with me when you're trying to explain the concept of tiny rays –"

"Microwaves," she corrected automatically. Fred smiled.

"Yeah, them. And – OK, so maybe the Christmas present thing is an issue, I mean, you've only got a week to get that sorted out, Summer, you should probably get your thinking hat on otherwise Christmas Day is going to be unbelievably awkward, because I've got you something pretty kick-ass, which you might want to bear in mind when you're working out your budget – but the rest of it doesn't matter! And man, I'm just glad you haven't started crying," he admitted.

Summer cracked a smile. "I'm not into crying," she shrugged.

"And you don't know how glad I am for that."

It started to snow above them.

Fred pulled his blue beanie off his red curls and placed it firmly on top of Summer's head, wrapping his arms around her.

"What's that for?" she asked, smiling softly.

"When your hair gets wet, it frizzes up and looks like a wild animal has attacked it. It's not a good look, sweetheart," Fred replied seriously, kissing the top of her head.

Summer rolled her eyes – but suddenly they went wide. "_We __couldn__'__t __have __used __Apparition.__"_

"What?" Fred mumbled from where his lips were muffled against Summer's hair.

"That's what you said before. Well, we can use Apparition now – to get home! Why didn't we think of this before?"

"Because we've got a great big car with us?"

"We'll take it with us!" Summer bounced up onto both feet eagerly.

"Yeah, and we can turn it into a Portkey – oh wait, no, that's _illegal_."

"Since when have you cared if something was against the law or not?"

"Since – since forever, thank you very much! I've always abided by the rules – I'm a rules kinda guy, me –"

"Yep. Sure you are, Mr Goody Two-Shoes," Summer nodded, tugging on a strand of his hair affectionately.

"No, no one touches The Boss – hey, get off, you!" Fred tried in vain to grab Summer's hands as they ran through his hair, messing it up as much as they could as Summer laughed, before she stopped abruptly.

"You call your hair 'The Boss'?"

"I - um... no?"

"Whatever you say. You know, the car doesn't matter that much," Summer shrugged, smoothing his hair back down. "We could always just Apparate away without it."

"But you said this car was your baby," Fred replied. "No, actually, you said it was "the car you'd raised and loved since infancy when it was an ickle baby car with a book full of things like "First Tyre Tracks" and "First Breakdown"."

Summer beamed. "That was just to get you in the car in the first place."

"Wait… so you _don__'__t _have a bottle with a sample of the first time you filled it up with petrol?"

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><p>please <strong>review<strong> :)


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